The Law of the Playground
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Approximate French translation of “BURRRRN!”. Used when someone is insulted en français, as here:

Madame: Deuce, qu’est-ce que Pčre Noël va te donner pour Noël?
Deuce: Une voiture.
Madame: Ha. Bon chance.
Jacques: BRULÉ!!

Also useful when, during a project on French cooking, Charles actually does burn himself on a bowl of hot shrimp.
approved Jun 14 2007, submitted Dec 20 2006 by anonymous user
I always thought this was a strictly our-school-only term for a botty bandit until I googled it today and found someone selling t-shirts with it on. I suppose it could have been specially commissioned by David Burns of my class, who has written in his Friends Reunited entry, "Yes, you were right. I really was a bendy Herman and I still am". I like to imagine him wearing his special shirt on gay pride marches in case he runs (or possibly sashays) into any old school friends.
approved Jun 14 2007, submitted Oct 9 2006 by Mike Sol
On the morning of our BCG, a huge mass panic was caused by the rumour that Jemma Holt had tensed her arm muscles mid-injection and snapped off the needle. Later versions of the story included the nurse being forced to remove the broken end with a pair of pliers. This caused a wave of hyperventilation, tears and fainting affecting around a third of the year, who all had to be laid out on mats in the gym until they had calmed down.

Not from an inner city comprehensive, then. They're all used to the sight of needles these days thanks to incredible amounts of intravenous drug use. According to Francis Bloody Gilbert, anyway. - Matt.
approved Jun 13 2007, submitted Dec 26 2006 by hongdo gaypants
In my school 'the apparatus' consisted of a pull-out set of bars, beams and rings that folded flat to the wall of the hall. Towards the end of term, as a treat we would be instructed to 'get the apparatus out'. The length of time it took to assemble meant that only a few minutes of play were possible.
approved Jun 13 2007, submitted Dec 26 2006 by hongdo gaypants
Both the user name and the password used to gain access the school's most important files, the Powerpoint presentations for assembly. A few swift alterations later, Jack Petchy had sprouted mysterious nose penises and the award receiver was replaced with a picture of Mr T.
approved Jun 4 2007, submitted Jan 8 2007 by Name Withheld
When I was 14 our school caretaker offered to take me and a few of my friends on holiday to his caravan in Wales.

To show us what a fun time we would have, he produced photos of previous under-age female pupils sunbathing in bikinis, or having water fights in tight white t-shirts.

My mum never did let me go. Selfish cow.
approved May 27 2007, submitted Jan 3 2007 by anonymous user
The coolest of the "gun" weapons to be found in a school, beating glue guns by a fucking mile.

It is possible to launch yourself through the air, with a staple gun in each hand, firing John Woo-style into planks of wood across the room.

For closer-range attacks, simply staple a Dairylea triangle to the wall in reception. Some bursting may occur, but ours stayed there long enough to go rotten. Perhaps they thought it was science.
approved May 27 2007, submitted Jul 15 2005 by Bionic Sheep
We've been sent LITERALLY er...four pieces of celebrity shit writing. So watch out kids, here they come!

Here I sit smart and artful,
paid fuck all and dropped a cartful.

Robert Burns, the mens lavvy, Barnton Bar & Bistro, Stirling.

They fuck you up, sex pests at school.
They may mean to, and they do.
They split your arse without KY,
And give you shitty cock to chew.

Phillip Larkin again, undisclosed locale.

Here I sit in stinky vapour
Cause someone stole the toilet paper
Should I stay, should I linger
I will be forced to use my finger

Joe Strummer, spotted Helena College, 2005

And finally...
I come here to done a piss,
I dunno what they do in India probably sqot on the floor or sumfink.

Jade Goody, Bermondsey Special School, 2004
approved May 25 2007, submitted Jan 26 2007 by anonymous user
The objective of this game is simple - to call the other person gay. However, if you are caught off guard, then you will become gay yourself. For example:
Ant: Ben...
Ben: What?
Ant: gay.
Ant may now congratulate himself because he has called Ben gay. Once you have fallen for this, however, there is a counter attack to being called gay.
Ant: Ben...
Ben: Yes, Ant...
Ant: ...Is gay.
At which point, Ben may celebrate his hard-earned victory over Ant, the stupid gay. However, a 'combo-combo' move is available:
Ant: Ben...
Ben: Yes, Ant...
Ant: cool.
The kudos gained from calling yourself cool is somewhat less then calling someone else gay, but at least you’re not gay which, for all intents and purposes is what really counts.
approved Jan 24 2007, submitted Dec 10 2006 by Name Withheld
Here I sit broken hearted
Spent a penny and only farted
Pam Ayres - Stanford-in-the-Vale Grammar School, 1960
approved Jan 24 2007, submitted Dec 21 2006 by billy bauld
Our tech teacher taught us the colour coding of electrical resistors using the mnemonic 'Bye-bye Roger, off you go, Birmingham via Great Western'. A poignant farewell, hinting at a moving background story - "Brokeback Mountain" set in the West Country. Or perhaps the Ohm Counties. I didn't feel it was my place to ask.
approved Jan 17 2007, submitted Jan 15 2007 by Ollie Wells
Leah Williams once attempted to ostracise me from my peers by announcing that she'd seen a dog flea in my hair. I didn't own a dog, and she confessed that she'd planted the dog flea in my hair herself. This suggested that she had a ready supply about her person. I put this to the jury, but my rumoured flea had caught the class's imagination, and nobody wanted to bully her instead.
approved Jan 17 2007, submitted Oct 23 2006 by Abby Normal
'I come here to rub my balls/And read the writing on the walls'

Philip Larkin, Finchley Catholic High, 1962
approved Jan 17 2007, submitted Dec 21 2006 by anonymous user
Previously unknown supply teacher, GCSE biology class, walked in and announced that he had a higher sperm count than any of us. He left the room, promising to answer any question on sex that we could write on scraps of paper and place in a coffee pot on the desk at the front. Amazingly, some of us actually wrote questions, and he answered them all deadpan. We never saw him again, but the legend of Sperm-count man lives on. I hope he found a job where his utter coolness and phenomenal sperm-count were more appreciated.
approved Jan 17 2007, submitted Sep 28 2006 by Gav Moss
If a man is predisposed to prostate cancer, he has to ejaculate at least once daily to avoid getting cancer of the penis which leads to either death or castration.

That's obviously what Mark's mum was doing.
approved Jan 2 2007, submitted Oct 10 2006 by Osiris of Egypt
Debbie had a real boyfriend on life support. He fell off his bike on the way home from her house one cold December evening, and ended up in a coma for four years. Way to get out of your exams, guy.

No-one would go out with her for all the time he was in hospital. Not because she wasn't a looker, or because of some sort of loyalty to poor, comatose Ivan. No! It was because Debbie already had one veggie for a boyfriend, which gave rise to the fear that whatever the spack equivalent of the Grim Reaper is, he MIGHT STRIKE AGAIN.

Any suggestions? - Jamie
approved Jan 2 2007, submitted Sep 25 2006 by Harry Grout
I wonder if I'm the only one thinking that you all sound like a far greater bunch of cunts then him?
approved Jan 2 2007, submitted Sep 5 2006 by Drew Styles
I'm sure everyone who had been forced to learn Latin at my school knew that they had free reign to scream "Fac id!" and then be left to try to explain to a teacher how actually they were demonstrating their dedication to their schoolwork by practicing irregular imperitives in their spare time.
approved Jan 2 2007, submitted Nov 6 2006 by anonymous user
Alan brought his pet mouse into school in a plastic ice cream tub. Boys then skewered its regular supply of droppings onto sharp pencils and ran after more sensitive children, attempting to flick the wee beastie's shit onto them. A direct hit would lead to the victim solemnly being informed they now had rabies, and would, unfortunately, die foaming at the mouth when they got home. One particularly weak child got some in his eye - naturally meaning he now had super-rabies. He spent the rest of the day sobbing under a desk, waiting for the inevitable.
approved Dec 27 2006, submitted Dec 19 2006 by N J
Say this while holding your hand out requesting a charitable donation. Best said as 'Money for the creeple, cream for my neeple' as it sounds desperate and convincing.
No-one ever asked about the whereabouts of the 'creeple', or to see the affected 'neeple', nor did they technically actually donate any money. Still, it's better than bloody Children in Need, isn't it?
approved Dec 3 2006, submitted Nov 8 2006 by Joe Breeze